Maybe I Don't Want To
by OptimisticallyRealistic
Summary: 16 year old Stan Marsh suffers through amnesia after an accident, he has to find his identity, but then again, why not start over? Why have people tell you who you are or what you hate and like? Why not have enemies become your friends?
1. Wake Up After Being Dead!

**Chapter 1: Dead!**

**Summary:**** 16-year old Stan Marsh suffers through amnesia after an accident, he has to find his identity, but then again, why not start over? Why have people tell you who you are or what you hate and like? Why not have enemies become your friends? Inspired by the short story, "Who Am I?"**

**Couples: ****I don't know yet, but there's a good chance there's going to be StanxWendy and KylexStan (the official is most likely KennyxStan) and maybe more couples! XD Find out later in the next chapters You can give me suggestions too!**

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**Stan's PoV**

How would you feel if you lost your memory and you woke up in a place you're unfamiliar to? How would you like to live your new life? Just think about it. You're unable to get back your memories and unable to laugh about this experience with your friends.

Because. You don't know your friends. There's nothing to laugh about if you can't be your own person.

Well, then again. Nobody ever gets another chance to start over if they did something wrong. You know what I think? Actually, nobody wants to hear what I have to say unless I sound like Stan Marsh. Sure, that's my name, but that doesn't mean I have to have people define my identity for me. Maybe, I like eggs. Who are they to say I don't? I mean, unless I'm allergic to them, then sure you can speak. All right, so maybe eggs isn't such a good effective example. How about having people choose your friends for you, and choosing who you should hate? But then, that leaves me to question:

Why can't I be their friend?

Why do I have to hate them?

I don't think I like the friends they chose for me, but I don't think they care for my opinion anyways on the count of the fact that I'm not the 'old' Stan. Sure, I'm supposedly popular, but what's the use of having it, if they don't even let you talk for yourself?

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"Stan...You're waking up. I'm so glad!"

I heard a feminine happy gentle voice above me, my vision was begining to unblur it's self. "Ehh..." I tried to search the words on what I should say as a response. My vision had finally unblurred itself, I had no other choice, but to look up. There was a girl that looked _really_ happy, almost in tears just seeing me. She was really pretty too. Long straight soft black hair, I found my hand running through it on it's own. Do I know her? There's a painful sound of a bang going in my head, like a hangover. Her bright blue eyes twinkled in happiness at my touch, they were later hidden after she closed her eyes. Aww. I really liked her eyes. Her lip-glossed lips forming a smile, as she guided my hand against the side of her cheek. She was soft, pretty, and she looked so gentle.

"Stan!" She embraced me suddenly, and I made a small soft groan in pain. I didn't put my needled or wired arm around her, but the other one that included a white paper bracelet. As I hugged her back, she made happy relieved sobs, I looked down at the name of my bracelet. She kept calling me Stan. I think that's my name. I look down at my bracelet to make sure:

**Marsh, Stanley**

So my name was Stanley Marsh? And my nickname was Stan? That sounds good. I like my name. It sounds like a cool famous football player on the field. I wonder if I play football? But the chick that was hugging me looked around the age of sixteen, so I couldn't be an adult. Unless, I'm a pedo? Heh...Here I am, trying to figure myself out while this girl I didn't know was hugging me. So before I keep getting lost in my daze, I pulled her away lightly, "Hey umm..."

"Yes, Stan?"

"Who are you?"

"..."

She looked at me in disbelief, and later made a laugh, "Well, it's good to know that your humor came back." She said, her smile slilghtly twitching.

"No, really, who are you?" I raised a brow.

"That's not funny, Stan..." She said through gritted teeth, and knuckles forming into clenching fists. She was trying to repress the developed anger, I can see.

"Well, I never meant for it to be funny." I said, lightly shrugging, and gave her a blank look to prove it, as well as my tone was sprinkled with a touch of seriousness.

She stood up, and placed her hands onto my shoulders, "You know me! You know me as Wends! Wendy Testaburger! YOUR GIRLFRIEND!" She practically screamed at me, to which I backed up against the head of my bed. "How could you just...Wait, you're really serious?" She pointed at me, shaking, she was backing up towards the door, "Oh-Oh god..." She ran out of the room, "MR.MARSH! MRS.MARSH!" She screamed.

All, was left was the echoeing of her horrified voice, the sound of the wooden door flopping back and forth, but slowing down it's pace. The only life that was left in the room was myself. I looked around, observing my surroundings. It was plain, there were some chairs, I was hooked to a machine, there was a table next to me, there was another door lead to the bathroom by the look of the sign, and there was a sink across my bed, and a TV under the ceiling and to the right of the sink. There was a curtain next to me and another bed, but the curtain was open and the bed was vacant. I looked down. Ugh, sick dude. I'm wearing a gay hospital gown.

"Hey turd, it's weird to see you're not throwin' up when you're in a hospital. You hate 'em."

"Huh?" I turned to see who the hell was that. Her voice sounding very familiar, but it wasn't Wendy. There was an older woman standing by the doorway, messing long brown hair. Ruby red lips that were not parted to show that she was interested in me, and deep blue eyes that have a piercing look. She was pretty, and she had some red streaks in her hair, and her clothing looked a bit slutty though. Her color combination was of pink and purple. However, Wendy looked more innocent, compared to this chick. Wendy was wearing a simple yellow cotton dress and some white jewerly. I just stared at the woman in the hallway, "Excuse me, but my name is not 'turd' and why would I hate hospitals?"

My answer-question surprised her and she was growling at me, and she walked over, and thumped me on the back of my head. I yelled in pain. "DON'T TALK SMART WITH ME, TURD!" She yelled.

I placed my arms in front of my face and around my head, ready to shield myself for another incoming blow, but she looked at me in surprise once again. She placed her hand onto my shoulder, and I flinched at the sudden soft touch. "Woah...Are you okay?" She asked, "I mean, you're actin' more like a pussy than usual."

I shook my head, "N-No." I answered her question, "I mean I don't even know you! And you just start yelling and hurting at me!" I yelled back, placing my knees against my chest. All ready, it was like I was an abused kid.

She rejected her hand back, slowly, looking at me, worried. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Why does she have to use that language? Why don't I like it? I looked over to her. She had a raised brow, and she was looking at me like I had something wrong with me. Maybe, she knows I have something wrong with me. My memory. I blinked, "Uhh...Do you know me?" I questioned, my index finger pointing at my chest.

"Yeah, I'm your sister."

"Really? I have a sister? Wow..." I looked at her astonished. At least, I wasn't an only child with no parents. There was a pause of silence for a moment as I stared at her, with a smile.

"What the hell you lookin' at?" She twitched.

"The fact that I have a pretty sister, that's what." I smiled.

She looked at me, shocked. "What game, you playin', turd?" I think I notice a pink color appearing on her cheeks.

"Game?" I raised a brow, confused.

She sighed in an exasperated manner, "Never mind. Look, anyways, my name is Shelley."

"That's a cool name." I complimented.

"Th-Thanks..." She mumbled in response.

"Randy, maybe we should let Stan re-"

"STAN!"

I looked at two adults that marched in. There was man that had a black mustache and black hair with some white hairs, he was wearing a blue button up shirt and black pants. Next to him, was a woman with a brown sweater, boy-short auburn hair, and she had blue eyes, and was wearing dark blue pants. The man, I think she said his name, was Randy, walked up to me while as Shelly got up and crossed her arms, standing a few feet across from me.

"Son, are you all right?!" He asked.

"I'm fine." I answered, but now I wanted an answer, "Are you my dad?" I asked. Yeah, that sounded really straight forward.

"Ye-Yes." He stuttered a bit, and a frown came upon his face. "Sharon...I think Wendy was right..."

"Don't be silly. It's probably the side-effects from the hospital medicine, or maybe he's just tired. I'm so glad, my baby's all right!" The woman, 'Sharon' exclaimed, and she embraced me tightly. She must be my mother, according to her reaction. What else proves it? The fact that her touch and smell...Feels so familiar. "Err...Mom?" I questioned.

"See? He does remember!" She looked toward her husband.

"That's because you're practically all over him!" Randy/my dad argued back.

"Actually...Mom. He's right." I said.

"What?" She pulled herself slowly away from me.

"I don't know you people.-Well, actually I just lost my memory, but still. And my head is killing me..." I mumbled, placing my hand onto the side of my head, groaning, I felt something that wasn't just hair. I felt bandages around my head, "What happened to me?" I questioned.

They gave me a nervous look, along with an accompanied frown. My mom shook her head at me, and I think she was about to burst into tears. My dad sighed, "Stan...We can discuss this later. I'm taking you home."

"But, Randy. We can't. The doctor says we have to let him re-"

"Sharon. There's nothing more this hospital can do."

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Soon, my dad gave me my sports bag that seem to be fullof t-shirts and a few pair of pants. I placed on a red and blue jersey and baggy jeans. I looked down at my appearance. I didn't like how I looked plain, and the fact that I feel awkward in these clothes. "Hmmm..." I raised a brow on how I can improve on this. Oh, by the way. When I went into the bathroom I found out I had short black hair, and I never noticed how my bangs were sorta blocking my vision. I have icy blue eyes and apricot colored skin. I think I like my appearance and I found out I have some abs too!

"Stan?" Someone entered. The same voice from before. She was walking towards me, I heard her heels clicking against the floor.

I turned, easily recognizing her, "Oh...Hey Wendy...Sup?" I smiled.

"I...I bought you this." She extended her arms and brought out a red mini-notebook and a pen. I raised a brow, "You want me to take notes or something?" I questioned.

"No." She shook her head smiling, "This is a notebook to keep around so you can take notes on who you are."

I accepted the gift. I think it's strange and that it's really beyond odd. It's like saying you have an extreme case of forgetting so many things, especially if they're related to you. "Thanks..." I almost forgot to say. I placed the rest of the things into my bag.

"Umm...Stan?" Wendy called me in a low tone.

After I zipped up my bag, I looked towards her, "Yeah?" I asked.

"How do you...How do you feel about losing your memory?"

I shrugged, "I'm not sure actually, but if I had a relationship with a pretty girl like you, then I think I would really miss that." I commented with a welcoming smile.

She looked at me, shocked by my response, apparently. "Well...Umm...Th-Thank you." Wendy said with a quivering lip. A pink heat appearing onto her cheeks. All right, I'm her boyfriend, why is she blushing? "Oh! I-I forgot to say...You're moving back to South Park."

I shrugged, "Where's South Park? Second of all, where am I then?"

"California, San Franciso. And South Park is in Colorado."

I gave her that look of, 'So, should I care?'

That shut her up by the looks of it. "Well...Are you ready?" She asked.

"Yeah," I nodded, "We can leave." I took my sports bag, and followed her out. We walked in silence.

**My analysis:** My name is Stan Marsh and I'm sixteen. My girlfrend is Wendy Testaburger and my parents's names are Randy and Sharon Marsh, and I have an older sister named Shelly, who I am suppose to hate. I cuss too apparenetly and I see no problem with it, but right now, I really do have a problem with it. Also, I'm moving back to South Park, Colorado. My old town.

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**N/A: I'm not really big on detail. :/ That seems more like fillers or ways to get you confused. You know, you don't always have to make things pretty. XD And if I try to do so, that'll make Stan out of character(even though he lost his memory, so he could be whatever he wants. Smart or dumb. XD;;). But that's not the Stan I'm going for. Oh, and by the way. One of the main SP gang will be coming in the next chapter. ;D**


	2. Listen to Rap

**Chapter 2: Listen to Rap**

I found myself in the backseat, Wendy squished between me and Shelly while my mom and dad were at the front. I didn't like the fact that my knee was touching Wendy's. I thought it felt awkward around her. She was a pretty girl, and I shouldn't be uncomfortable because she is my girlfriend, but I felt so nervous around her. I didn't know her at all, and she tried to place her hand onto mine earlier, to which I pulled away because I know I knew her earlier before the accident, but that doesn't mean things can't be awkward. I kept facing the window as we traveled to South Park without conversing, but letting the old music sing until Shelly had switched the radio onto a CD of a band I was not so familiar with, but the track that it was currently on was something about giving into pressure.

_**Tell me where our time went**_

_**And if it was time well spent**_

_**Just dont let me fall asleep**_

_**Feeling empty again**_

I tapped my index finger against my thigh as I listened to the rhythm of the music, I was smiling and closing my eyes as I let the music play, no longer paying attention to the moving scenery in the window.

_**Cause I fear I might break**_

_**And I fear I cant take it**_

_**Some night I'll lie awake**_

_**Feeling empty**_

_**I can feel the pressure**_

_**its getting closer now**_

_**We're better off without you**_

_**I can feel the pressure**_

_**its getting closer now**_

_**We're better off without you**_

My head was swinging back and forth in a calm peaceful slow manner. Until Wendy's voice blocked the sound of the great music playing.

"Stan?"

"What?" I questioned, I wasn't happy with the fact that she had solemnly interuppted a really good song as it played.

"You don't like this kind of music." She said, raising a brow.

"I don't? So what's your point?" I questioned.

"You hardly listen to music because you never have time to, thanks to practice, and you only listen to rap like any other guy."

"What kind of music is this?" I asked of curiosity. That caused Wendy's eyebrows to knit in frustration, like I wasn't getting the point of the convo.

"It's Paramore. A punk rock band." Shelly answered unexpectedly, looking toward us.

"Yeah, you don't listen to punk rock." Wendy added. I didn't think the two sentences went together. Shelly's was more neutral and just informed me on what kind of music it was, while as Wendy's was more demanding and strongly informative to my taste.

"Whatever." I muttered angerly and rolled my eyes, giving her an attitude.

After another few hours, we had finally reached South Park. We had stopped at a gas station earlier to place on our winterwear. After all, if we traveled from Callifornia and over here in winterwear, wouldn't we die of something or would it just be really hot for us? The moving trucks were following behind our van. By the looks of the scenery, there were children playing and laughing in the park with the snow. I placed my hands onto the glass window, and my eyes moving left and right to observe and sink in every detail of my old snowy town. It was very basic and plain, there wasn't much to get excited about here or see what really stood out since Colorado was pretty cold so it's not really the snowiest or coldest town, and it's name didn't stand out either. If there's a South Park, there's a North Park, right?

We crossed into a street and it was very odd how all the houses manage to look the same. Ever been into a neighborhood like that? I'm pretty sure everyone has been into a neighborhood with houses that don't stand out and are in a uniform manner. I bet you would accidently try to break into someone's house because it looks exactly like yours, thinking that your key isn't working, until you finally realize that it isn't your house by the looks of the address plate that was next to the door. Once, we pulled up to a big house. We stepped out, slammed our doors, and dad told me I didn't have to assist a hand and ordered me to get familiar with the town, until mom argued that I should have an escort, so she suggested Wendy, but dad suggested some kid named 'Kyle'. So, Wendy ringed up 'Kyle' while in the mean time as I waited I helped out my parents move.

After getting a few boxes in the vacant living room, a red headed teen, dressed in orange and green, was running up the street, panting out of exhaustion. I'm guessing he wasn't really one of those athletic types or he lived really far or something, but whatever. He was heading toward my direction. Once he finally came up to me, he placed his hands onto his knees and continued trying to catch his breath.I wonder if I was in his way or something. I opened my mouth to say something, but he spoke instead, "Hey...Hey Stan." He said.

"Uhh..."

"Kyle."

_**Stan's PoV ends here.**_

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_An 8 year old Stan Marsh was standing next to the red head in front of a crowd of cheering people (Take note that there are also some corpses and disfigured limbs dispersed throughout the crowd thanks to the earlier event that had happened). It had included a foreign German man, that looked like he was in his 40's, was chasing them down in a battle outfit and with a rifle, but because the two boys were small and surrounded by the adults they were able to escape, but other people had to unknownlying sacrifice their lives for the young lads. And what was it all for? Just to assassinate an egg that belonged to the parents, Stan and Kyle Broflovski._

_But who knew that the whole thing would have been based upon the decision of the allowance of gay marriage? So, continuing on, because they were running from a man with a rifle in order to get an A+ on their project, they were injured thanks to the grenades the man threw. So, they were standing in front of a crowd in ripped clothing, dirt, and in blood, but it wasn't serious. Kyle looked at his buddy, his forest green eyes full of sadness along with an accompanied frown instead of a heroric relieved expression. "Stan...Do you really think my hat is stupid?"_

_His dark-haired friend looked over to his friend, observing the green ushaka that was set on his friend's red hair then at Kyle's face. He smiled and placed a hand of reassurance on his Jewish friend's back. He smiled at him, "As a matter of fact, Kyle...I think it's the nicest hat I had ever seen." He said, smiling. He was unaware of the fact that his voice sounded oddly husky for an eight year old._

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Stan had felt himself daze out for a moment thanks to a flashback that had included Kyle and his eight year old self. He thought it was very odd, but cute. He shook his head once, and had the urge to calculate how long he was standing there dumbfoundedly without answering him. "Kyle. Hey." Stan quickly looked over his dad with a raised brow, giving his father a look of, 'Please help me!'.

He made a hand motion of 'come over here' to which his son followed. "So, Kyle is..." Stan raised a brow for his father to finish up his sentence.

"Your childhood best friend." His father answered right away, "He's here to try to help you recall what memories you had here and what you need to know." He explained, and Stan nodded in response. However, he looked a llittle surprised that his best friend came for him. "So..I suggest you go with him."

Stan was hesitant about this as he looked back at Kyle then back at his dad, "Randy, I really think I wanna go with you with you instead since you're my dad."

His dad gave him a mixture of a surprised and shocked expression by his son's sudden refusal. He felt hesitant at first when he looked at Stan, and sighed. He wouldn't have mind going with his son to show him around, but he didn't think he had the time to, and because Kyle was close to his son, and it was sad how the amnesia-boy didn't realize how the relationship he had with his best friend would have been considered a 'homosexual brotherly relationship', since that's how close the two were. "Look, Stan...You better go." Randy said.

Stan muttered something unintellegible, and placed his hands into his pockets, walking toward the direction of his friend. He smiled, "Sorry, about the hold up..."

Kyle, who wasn't able to say his comment earlier, decided to say it now, "Wow, dude you really do have amnesia." He said with wide eyes looking over Stan's expression.

"Yeah...So umm...Mind showing me around?" He asked, feeling somewhat bashful about the whole thing, and grabbed onto Kyle's hand. The kid didn't realize how 'gay' his action would have been considered, but he didn't think much of it. Possibly, because he had forgotten about sexuality and it's rules.

"Y-Yeah, yeah sure." Kyle said in response, and held onto his friend's red gloved hand, he felt quite hesitant at first, and gulped. He rubbed his throat to clear it, and pulled his friend along, appearing a bit red on the cheeks. He looked down at their hands as he walked. Red and green. It was like Christmas with that combination. He didn't want to steer into those thoughts though. He wanted to relish this moment of togetherness for a while, whether it looked gay or not. When you're wtith someone wonderful, it's like the world's harsheness is shut out.

"So, where are we going?" Stan asked out of curiosity as his eyes photographed the path and the buildings.

"Hmm..." Kyle placed his palm under his chin to think for a moment, "We can go get some burgers." He answered, "And some milkshakes." Kyle responded.

To which, Stan gasped, "We can't get milkshakes Kyle!"

"And why the hell not?" The Jewish boy raised an auburn eyebrow in response.

"Uhh..." Stan scratched the back of his head, and made a frustrated thinking face as he tried to remember the reason or why, "Well...Actually, I'm not sure, but I have a bad feeling if we did." He said, almost feeling his stomach turning against him on the subject.

Kyle's eyes were now looking up, and a bemused expression occupied his face, now that he had given thought to Stan's reason. What a minute what reason? "Well, I'm a diabetic. Maybe that's why." He answered Stan, and gave a nonchalant shrug.

"Oh. In that case, we really can't get milkshakes." Stan decided.

It wasn't long till they reached the fast food restraruant. Stan ordered what Kyle ordered because he was unsure of what to get. He had bothered Kyle about what he ordered again, though he was unsure why it was a problem, yet again. The red head decided to say that he was Jewish and he couldn't eat anything that wasn't kosher, but this time when Stan scolded him, Kyle said 'Screw it'. Even if it was against his friend's wishes. He needed to break _some_ rules in his religon after all. Hey! Catholics do it all the time! _'Following the ten commandments my ass.'_ The two had went over to an empty table with their orders and sat across from each other.

Kyle placed a french fry into his mouth and chewed and swallow. "What's the first thing you want to know?" He asked.

Stan had his hamburger in his hands as he was about to bite into it, but that was interupted by Kyle's question. So far, he saw Kyle as the guy that would give him all the answers, like some kind of ruler of the universe or something. Now, to find a perfect question. Then again, there is no such thing as perfection, but there are such things as dumb questions. No matter what that saying is, there are especially dumb when they come from dumb people.

Stan shrugged and just decided to ask something random for the hell of it, "How about I try to get to know you. I mean you are my best friend supposedly."

Kyle formed an amused smile, he felt odd for explaining his interests to Stan, since he would think the guy would know Kyle's entire self by heart. Damn amnesia. "All right, umm..." He tried to find the words on where to start on this. "Oh! I like snowboarding, skateboarding, and I play the bass guitar. Hmm...And I definately love basketball." He explained to his friend, nodding proudly of his interests that were moslty subjected to sports.

The amnesia boy smiled in response, and nodded. He felt left out though because he didn't even know his interests, and if he did. Would he really enjoy them now? "I'm not sure what my interests are yet, so I have nothing to give into that conversation."

"Oh! You like all kinds of sports. How about we try playing some basketball?" Kyle suggested, sounding anxious about his idea.

Stan seem to lighten up at this. He had nothing better to do, and he would choose getting to know someone through a game of basketball, then going back to the house and shift heavy boxes and furniture into the house. It was like moving into a new town, and meeting your neighbor, who would be your best friend through your entire settlement. "Sure!" He nodded. The idea excited him so much, that the two were inhaling their burgers more than chewing and swallowing them.

Stan had followed Kyle out the resturaunt and down the trail to Kyle's house. Once, the two arrived there,

"All right, so I got the ball." Kyle announced, having the orange ball in his hands, "Now we just need to go to the court and probably call Craig and Kenny for a two on tw-"

"Hey! What's this?!" Stan yelled, cutting into the rest of Kyle's informative plan for their game. He picked up a white guitar. Well, it wasn't a guitar, it looked like one though. He blew the dust away, and looked over the handle, finding colorful buttons at the end of the handle, and examined the other parts of the guitar.

Kyle frowned at Stan's short attention span. That really didn't change; he rolled his eyes at his friend's astonished gaze. "That's for the game 'Guitar Hero'. We just to play that when we were little, you had bequeathed me that game before you moved to California." For those that don't know, 'bequeathed' means to give away; inherited.

"Sweet, dude! Let's play then!" Stan said, his bemused look, instantly disappeared after his ears perked at the fact that Kyle had possessed the game. "Let's play!" He yelled, changing his mind.

Kyle rolled his eyes, and scoffed, "If you say so, I guess." He responded, and dropped the ball and walked over to where Stan was. All ready, he had noticed that the guy was all ready plugging in the X-box, and gave Kyle the other Guitar Hero controller. His eyes widen in surprise at Stan's childish antics and his strange big interest in video games.

Stan had turned on the game, and had the guitar set around himself, he looked to Kyle, "Ya ready?" He smiled.

His Jewish friend nodded in response, "Hell yeah." He said. He had a feeling he had that game play still in him. And if there was drama going to be caused again by the last time they played, then he's going to be the one that leaves Stan this time, and end his career by playing 'Herion Hero'.

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Perspiration dripping from their faces and damping their tank tops, the score rising up on the top score, the boys were playing hardcore. They had truely looked like actual band members when they swayed their body around with the guitar, twirl, go on knees, and play some more(Just to express the Queer-o of the whole thing with tricks). They were pressing furiously on the buttons, but thet were still able to keep the notes. It was an amazing show, but it was too bad it didn't teach you how to play it in real life. Otherwise, they would have a career of just them too. Then again, it would be like repeating the same mistake again, but with actual drugs and for a big crowd that's just not in an arcade. The room was dimmed, the lights were never on, since the two came in. The only lights were the flashing rave lights that were in the TV. Soon, they had reached the ultimate score of one million, and the game congradulated them by calling them...FAGGOTS. Too bad a manager didn't come up to the door to make Kyle a star this time, but they looked at the game with a dropped jaws.

"THE CRAP?!" Stan yelled.

"I forgot that this game has nothing else that's spectacular." Kyle mumbled, placing the controller down. Rolling his eyes at the stupid congradulations. If you can even call it that. He looked to Stan, who kicked the Xbox. "The fuck, Stan?!"

Stan cringed when he heard Kyle cussed, but when he thought of why he said that, he shrugged. "It looks like you never use it anyways." He reasoned, by pointing at some of the leftover dust that covered the gam counsel. He rolled his eyes at Kyle, and decided to bring something up, after facing the window's darkness. "Hey...What time is it?" He asked.

Kyle looked down at his watch, "Holy crap! It's almost 5:30!" He yelled.

"So what's your point?" Stan asked with a raised brow.

"My parents going to be home any minute now w-"

Suddenly, the door opened revealing an overweight round woman with her husband that followed behind her. "BUBBIE!"

"Bubbie?" Stan snorted and placed his palm over his mouth to keep from laughing.

Kyle twitched and turned a fury shade of red from Stan's comment, he didn't bother to remind Stan that he knew about the nickname his mother gave him for years since it's no use if the guy can't remember.

"Oh it's your friend!" The red-headed fat woman yelled enthusiastically when noticing Stan's appearance, "Stanley!" She walked over to where he was located, to which Stan moved back from the open arms she was offering to him. _'Don't eat me!' _He begged internally and before he could take another breath, he was held tightly against the older woman, he had felt himself suffocating in her grip against her giant body. "Kyle..." He mumbled onto her clothes, "HELP!" He yelled or at least tried to anyways.

Kyle snickered: "That's what you get." He said with a happy grin.

**My analysis: **Supposedly, the only music I listen to is rap, but screw that.

- South Park is as cold as hell. Wait, hell isn't cold. Then what is it cold as? Well, I can't say Canada or Antartica(that's overboard). Anyways, a lot of houses look the same, too many buildings are plain. However, you could hardly get lost in a small town like this.

-My best friend is Kyle Broflovski(who is a diabetic) and I had an odd flashback about how we when were eight we were taking care of an egg and I was complimenting Kyle's hat.

-I think if it's allowed to marry a video game I would totally marry Guitar Hero, then it would call me a faggot if I play it too much.

**-****NEVER**** EVER ****GO**** NEAR MRS.BROFLOVSKI. SHE MIGHT EAT YOU.**

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**N/A:** The flashback Stan had was from the episode, "Follow That Egg!" D! Yes, that was an actual scene and it was husky. Oh. I got the idea of Stan calling his parents by their first names was inspired by the Twilight series(A must read for those who like human-like vampires!). BTW. This Kyle is probably more different than my other one in Gamble for a Happy Ending! Oh, and Guitar Hero? Yes, I saw that episode 'Guitar Queer-o'.


	3. Follow The List

**Chapter 3: Follow The List**

**STAN MARSH**

"That was an awesome time, dude, but I gotta jet."

"So soon?"

"Yeah."

I didn't want to join Kyle for dinner from what I smell in what Mrs.Broflov was cooking up in the kitchen. I don't think kosher food makes me happy. Though, Kyle argued that I had dealt with it before, but I didn't want to deal with it today. I asked if he wanted to come with me to my place for dinner, but he refused to, it was a bummer, but I'll live. He's a nice guy, at least what I think. When I arrived home, I was greeted by my parents and Shelly. I joined them just in time for dinner.

"Did you have fun, son?" Dad questioned.

"It wasn't so bad. Kyle's pretty fun." I answered.

A smile crept up both of my parents's faces once I said my positive opinion about him. It was obvious to why they were happy about the whole thing. It was because I was still on good terms with Kyle. It sounds odd to say 'still' because I really still feel like I hardly know him. I feel like the new kid in town that has to make new friends and transfer to a new school, not the guy that had it al and moved away and came back. I sighed and poked at my slice of meatloaf with my fork. I was rethinking about that flashback I had when I was walking home...

-------------------------------------

_I was in an intense conversation with Kyle, and I was arguing supposedly on my week of fame as being #1 on Guitar Hero, to which my career, if you can even call it that, demolished in the end, and I had wanted to get Kyle back into my life again. He looked away from me:_

_"I don't need you Stan." He said with a displeasurable expression._

_"I know...But_ _I_ _**need**__**you**__." I said, placing my hand onto his shoulder as I frowned out the truth._

_He looked back at me with widened eyes, and I looked serious about what I said when he observed._

-------------------------------------

And my first thought was, 'What the hell?' How gay was I? Was I gay? No, I had a girlfriend, but unless she turned out to be a transvestite...

"Stan, you're going to sleep early, you're going to school tomorrow. Your first day." Sharon answered.

I was surprised at what she told me. I'm going to school? Tomorrow? "How am I going to get there? I don't remember where it is." I should correct myself by saying, 'I don't _know_ where it is!' Hey, maybe it's best that I let this distract me from what I was thinking earlier.

"Yeah, son. It's about time you get to know everyone. I hope... That's okay with you." My dad said in a hesitant unsure tone.

I shrugged and grinned, "It's cool, Randy." I nodded.

"You know, you don't have to call me 'Randy'." He said, "Calling me 'dad' is fine too." He said before placing a fork of peas into his mouth.

"Oh! But I like to call you Randy. It sounds cooler, ya know?" I stated before taking a bite of ham.

My dad smiled back, "All right. If you feel comfortable with that then. I just want you to know I'm your dad after all." He said with a stiff of a laugh.

I joined in, "Of course." I said.

-------------------------------------------------

After dinner was done, I headed off into my room, I was able to find it, since I can pretty much tell apart between the different styled-rooms in the house, but when I entered _my_ room it felt odd. Like, it wasn't my room. I looked around my surroundings, on the walls were posters of football, and jerseys hanged up on the wall, used by famous athletes and decorations of football and baseball. Sports. Sports. I think I'm going to go insane! I looked down, there were Sports Illustrated magazines in a pile near the desk, but I found something that caught my eye. It was a box next to it. I scurryed on over there and opened it. It was full of comic books? Why were **they** in a box and not ths sports magazines? I mean, these look _way_ more interesting! This room was really getting on my nerves. I shall make a note to myself to rem-

Oh, my god! Why the hell is my underwear everywhere?! And my other clothes and stuff?! I didn't notice earlier that I can't even see the carpet! I was ready to start cleaning when all of a sudden I tripped on something. "Oof!" I crashed onto the floor. I groaned and my eyes rolled over to the direction of what was under my bed. I saw...Ramen? Yogurt? Bread? Did I have a pet? When I decided to investigate by going into smellng range, my god I wanted to throw up! I ran into the private bathroom I had-Woah! I have a private bathroom, pretty sweet, eh? Hey, wait, how did I know that was there?

So, after a few minutes of spending some time in the bathroom, vomiting and cleaning my mouth with mouthwash, I found Shelly sitting on my bed, and was looking right at me. She had her hands together, placed on her lap. She was rubbing her upper teeth against her bottom lip, it must've been a habit she had aquired over the years. Her hot red lips spoke, "Give me it." She said in a demanding voice.

"You're gonna have to be more specific than that." I answered with a shrug, my eyes having the urge to travel onto the messy floor.

"The notebook." Shelly answered.

"You know?" I questioned and dug through my back pocket for it. Though, I was hesitant at first to give it to her.

"Of course I do! She's your damn girlfriend, I have to know!" She yelled.

I winced at her hard tone, and threw her the notebook, "Here." I murmured. Is it suppose to be her business? Or anyone's? Well, it's not like I wrote in anything important anyways. Well, _yet_. I watched her examine the few notes I took with a serious look, but that broke into a giggle and a smile when she reached the last part of my notes. "All right, all right. Sit down, you." Shelly commanded.

Without any second thoughts, I obeyed. I wasn't sure how I was so obedient to her, it must've been something about her tone or something.

She sat the notepad next to her, and let out a sigh. "All right, Turd, I talked with Wendy, and I have decided that I'm going to be the psychiatrist that will help you in getting back your memories _and_ whatever problems you're gonna have." She sounded bitter when she offered helpful advice to me. She mumbled something to herself, though I was unsure of what she had said, but it most likely had something to do with the fact that she didn't want to really do it this much. I wonder why she hates me though? It's probably a brother-sister thing. I just nod in response. "Look, I see that you all ready have your notes on yourself down. A few anyways. And you bet it sure ain't legal to marry a video game. Damn fag." She mumbled under her breath.

"Is this discussion going anywhere?" I asked with crossed arms. I began tapping on my arm as I waited for her to get straight to the point. So far, she's my psychiatrist.

She scowled, "Quiet."

"But we're about to talk, how can I be q-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

I jumped back at her moody tone.

"Ahem." She coughed onto her fist, "Let's get started. You need to know about your past, it'll be pretty odd though." She explained. I listened. Once, Shelly had grasped my attention she talked once more: "As you know. Wendy is your girlfriend. Stan, you dared her back in the third grade to be exact, but she dumped you for that black kid. I forgot his name." Shelly shrugged, "Anyways, that made you turn goth and then you told Wendy to go fuck herself everytime she came near you when she wanted to start over. You like her, but _because_ you did. You always threw up in her face, at least, what she complained about anyways. You and Wendy got back together in the 8th grade. She dumped Token and went back to you. Your relationship isn't technically on-and-off since I think you broke up only two times or something. Which is more of a good thing, otherwise that would be really annoying to hear how you break up with her three times a week!

"Moving onto the next person. As you know. Kyle Broflovski is your best friend, that you knew since pre-k. He's a geek, well. Actually, he's not your best friend any more, technically speaking. You dumped him and your friends when you entered high school. I don't know much about him, but he use to have an afro (I think you had an afro fetish), and like you put in your notes, a total diabetic. And hey, if you're still interested in keep up with your popularity status you keep away from him, but it's your life, so you can do as you damn well please."

_Keep away from him_. I'm not so keen on the whole 'status' thing. I mean, Kyle's a nice guy: "But I don't want to stay aw-"

"Dammit, are you deaf? I said you _can_ stay with him if you don't give two shits about your status."

"Jeez, you don't have to be so rude about it." I rolled my eyes at her.

She made a loud harsh sigh, "Get use to it punk." Shelly informed me before exiting my room.

"What the hell?" I said after the door slammed.

That night I fell asleep for the first time of my new life that I have to explore in order to understand.

----------------------------------

I hated the attire I chose as I looked at my reflection in the life-size mirror. A parka that had a combination of green and white, and no it wasn't a parka you could wear in winter. There's actually a distinction when it comes to hoodies and parkas, like chowder and soup. I did _not_ like my style, it was plain. No designs, just numbers and names of famous players I don't care about. I traveled back into the closet, and went on my own 'little adventure' in there. Soon, I came across a black outfit that had included black converses, one cross earring, a black hat with a gray puff ball on it, and a black shirt with a white and black checkered star on it, and black girl pants. I took out the whole attire, except the girl pants, and placed that on with loose dark jeans before I came down for breakfast.

I wasn't so surprised at the reactions I have recieved for some reason.

"Wha... What are you wearing?" Asked my dad, looking freaked out.

"Randy, let him express himself. It takes time, before he remembers his _usual_ style." Answered my mother.

"Aw! But I like this style!" I said in a purposely-childish manner to bring the mood up, from serious to care-free. I took a seat in the wooden chair next to Shelly as mother unloaded the plates of today's breakfast.

------------------------------

After breakfast, Shelly drove me to school. I observed the tall burgundy red building that had read 'South Park High School' on it. Wow, that's a boring name, and unoriginal! Anyways, after parking the care and getting out it, I followed her to the front of it, she looked behind her, right at me with a raised brow: "Uhh..._What_ are **you** doing?" She asked as she stopped dead on her tracks.

"Following." I shrugged, "I don't know where I'm suppose to stand."

"Turd. You have friends." She rolled her eyes after she scoffed. She placed her hand onto her hip as she waited for me to leave. Well, she _expected_ me to leave, but I refused to.

"But! I don't know where to go!" I responded. I must've sounded like a kid right there. Why the hell does she keep calling me a turd? I'm pretty sure I don't smell like one. Maybe it's a girl thing. Though, I pretty much doubt it.

"OVER THERE!" She yelled and pointed at Wendy who was talking with another girl. The two were surrounded by guys and other people. I blinked and shrugged, "Kay thanks!" I replied and walked towards them. I sensed Shelly's eyeroll at my annoyance. I snickered.

"Stupid-Punk." She mumbled.

"Stoner-Hooker." I replied.

"WHAT?!" I ran at that moment with laughter, forgetting to meet up with Wendy.

-------------------------

_**Stan's PoV ends here.**_

"You didn't miss much, Mr.Marsh. You just came in two weeks later." Mrs. Schmitt informed the young boy. She moved her straightened brown hair out the way of her eyes, revealing rectangular black framed glasses. She had looked quite young with her complexion, possibly around the age of twenty-four."Now open up your arms."

"Excuse me?"

"Here we go." The secretary warned as she was trying to lift some textbooks. She dropped them one by one onto his arms, "Geography...Biology...Algebra...Health...Literature, organizer," And added some papers, "Locker combination, worksheets, schedule..."

She rambled on and on about what Stan needed for his classes, soon he appeared in the hallway, with the door closing behind him. The stack of books and papers had almost slipped to reveal him. His pile was covering him! The pile was taller then him in height!

"Here, let me help you there." A voice said and took at least half of the stack, and it seemed to reveal: Kyle Broflovski

"Thanks, man, but you didn't have to."

"I know, but I wanted to." Kyle said with a friendly grin, "Now, come on. First, I'll show you around the building, then I'll tell you about everyone tomorrow, just to help you in your memory!" He winked.

"Aww! Thanks, dude!"

------------------------------------

AT LUNCH

Stan felt like a blind man, when he didn't know where to sit. It was like he was getting confused with 'how' and 'where'. He looked around as he carried his orange tray of food. To his rescue, Wendy came up to him, and snaked her arm around his with that sweet smile of hers, "Come on! Stan!" He looked at her, as she lead him side by side toward one of the popular tables. She made it looked like nothing happened, his eyes continued to look for a certain someone though, much like Kyle for instance.

"Hey Stan" A voice with a mixture of flirt and gentleness caught his attention. It must have been that seductive, or it was because it was someone calling him. At any rate, he didn't sound sexually interested in the woman anyways, even after he looked at her. The teen had the biggest rack...EVER. Okay, okay. Not really, it's really an overexaggeration, but to any guy in South Park, if you ask any of them they would say the finiest woman with the biggest rack is none other than, 'Bebe Stevens'. Not to Stan though, right now it's still Wendy. Rack or not(wait, no rack?! How is a man suppose to live like that?!).

Stan, however, was not mesmerized by her looks or her unrealistically, yet somehow natural, breasts. He sat next to her, and she scooted closer. He signed in annoyance, "Anyways, sup? Are you Bebe?" He assumed right away as Wendy took a seat next to her.

"Yes, actually, and I have something for you, Mr.Star-Football-Player." She said and pulled out her Linda Cosgrove designer label red giant purse and slipped her manicured hand into it, scuttling her hand around for something. At the same time, old notes and bubblegum wrappers were flying out of the purse, and a... Tampon? Which had also fell into some guy's burrito, causing him to shout, "Dude! TAMPON IN MY BURRITO? ON BURRITO DAY?!"

"Here ya go!" Bebe smiled as she handed him a piece of loose-leaf paper, and there was a list written in orange and in big letters and some doodles all around. It defiantely showed that she was the one that wrote this.

**Status List: PROPERTY OF STAN MARSH! 333**

Women You Love:

Wendy-Your girlfriend who is smart/pretty/popular

Bebe- (Of course!) Wendy's best friend, and I hooked you guys up for the third time you guys broke up

Shelly-Your older sister who is insanely popular only by being a whore.

Heidi- She can be a total bitch, but you still love to hang out with her.

Guys You Hang Out With:

Token-Rich. Popular. Cool. He's the class representive and on the football team. He has the same level of popularity as you.

Clyde-Who doesn't love this guy? ** 333**

Guys/Chicks You Don't Hang With and Should Stay Away From:

Cartman-The BIGGEST asshole! NEVER go with him!

Kenny-It's rumored he has a STD.

Craig-Rude! He spends most of his time at the principal's office!

Butters-Cute, but too much of a loser.

Damien-He's creepy. SERIOUSLY!

Pip- Rejected since Elementary! Hang out with him, and your status is going to be brought down before you know it!

Red-Bitch.

Tweek-ADD. Sure, he's cute and all, but I suggest staying away from him. He's still a freak.

Kyle-Too much of a nerd

He raised a brow at the list, and let it dropped onto the white surface of the table, "What do you want me to do with this?" He asked, looking down at the list then at her. She scooted closer, and pointed a red manicured nail at the first name in the anti-pile and began explaining, "Well, this is a list about the people you should stay away from. Like _Him_." Bebe said in a sour tone and pointed at a _once_-overweight-teen that was seated next to Craig and surrounded by other guys. The guy was playing a trick on a hooded fellow, something that had to do with forks and peas. He didn't wanna know.

Something caught his eye, someone with that silly green hat and curly red hair! It was Kyle! He rose from his seat with excitement and raised his arms up high, and waved like, someone would describe him in one word, an 'idiot'. "KYLE! OVER HERE DUDE! RIGHT HERE!" He yelled like a fanboy, recieving stares from all around him.

"Psst… Stan. Remember what I said about the list? " Bebe muttered as she grabbed onto his wrist, shaking her head. Stan gave her a dismissive wave in response, along with an eye roll, and continued to call for Kyle. "Sit over here!"

Kyle lifted a stiff auburn brow at Stan, and looked back at Tweek, who twitched in response after Kyle gave him a look, 'Should I go or do you want me to sit next to you?' It was better if Kenny was here. He didn't have that many friends; he wasn't that popular around South Park. Though, it was mostly because when he hung out with Cartman, Kenny, and Stan. It was just the four of them, and no one else. It was a habit they picked up where no one else mattered, but them.

"GAH! DON'T LOOK AT ME!" Tweek yelled at Kyle's sudden gaze. "Oh I mean…" He twitched, trying to regain his control. Wait a minute, what control? "Y-You-You can go! It's OKAY!" He yelled, and Kyle smiled at him and walked off.

He walked over to where Stan was, feeling so awkward, completely out of place. Like he didn't belong there, well, he didn't really belong there, really. He felt stares from the teens seated at the table gaze over at him. He stuck out so much with the clothes and status, which made him very uncomfortable. The popular people stared at Kyle, like he was some kind of new toy placed on display, like those chinpokomons, from long ago. Which had something t deal with Japanese people trying to bomb us yet again. Hopefully, they weren't at it again. Damn them. Then again...Kyle was never really into that Chinpokomon stuff.

--------------------------------------------------------

_"Okay, Kenny. I'll trade you my Chuchunezumi for your Pengin!" An overweighted fat boy said._

_Muffled an orange boy, who had his mouth covered with the orange fabric of his jacket replied: "Fuck you!"_

_"God damnit, you're supposed to trade those, you asshole! Now, give me Pengin!" The other one protested._

_"Hey dudes!" Kyle greeted, "What...are those?" He pointed with a raised brow at the demented looking animals (If you can even call them that)._

_Stan gasped at his best friend! "What are these??" He said in a voice, he could believe that Kyle could not understand! Or even know about the new senstation! "They're Chinpokomon!" He yelled sounding like a total fan-boy._

_"Huh??" Kyle questioned dumbfoundly._

_"You don't appear to have any Chinpokomon." The fat one informed, "Cyborg Bill hasn't been cool for a long time, Kyle."_

_"Why the hell don't people tell me these things?!"_

_"It's all Chinpokomon now."_

_To which Stan piped in, "Dude, if you collect Chinpokomon you can complete the Primary Main Objective."_

"_What's the Primary Main Objective?" Kyle asked._

"_You don't even __**know **__what the Primary Main Objective is?" Cartman looked at him in disbelief._

"_The Primary Main Objective is to destroy the Evil Power." Stan said._

_"Well. what's the Evil Power?" Kyle asked._

_"Ogh!" Stan gave an eye roll out of frustration. Cartman followed Stan's lead against the noob, "Oh, my God! The identity of the Evil Power won't be revealed until all Chinpokomon are collected by a Royal Crown Chinpoko Master!"_

_Kyle, who of course had no idea of what the hell they were talking about just replied with a simple, "... What?" Honestly, it was like they were speaking a different language._

_To which Cartman added with a, Duuuh!"_

_"Kyle, get with the times, dude!" Stan yelled._

-------------------------------------------------

"Stan...Stan!" Kyle shook his friend's arm frantically.

"Huh?! Oh what?!" Stan shook his head, now returning back into reality.

"The bell just rang! Lunch is over! What the hell is wrong with you, dude?!" Kyle raised a thick auburn brow.

"Oh umm..." Stan scratched his head, "I...I..."

After waiting impatiently for a few seconds, Kyle rolled his eyes, "Come on, let's just go." He said.

-------------------------

The next day, it was morning, and Kyle was getting out his books from his locker, after gathering what he needed, he shut his locker door, and walked off to begin his next class. He saw people gasping and chatting about him, then people began to greet him like:

"Hey Ky! Sup?!" Token yelled.

"Yo Ky!" Clyde greeted.

"Oh my god! Hi Kyle" Bebe followed.

Instead of feeling like the weirdo for once, he felt like everyone was being... _creepy_. He gave a hesitated wave at the three who smiled and nodded in his direction and some normal people shooting him nods of admiration and smiles of welcomes. It was odd, because it seems like a greeting you would give to the new kid, but Kyle's not new around here and they don't even greet the new kids.

"Ky?..."

"HEY KAHL!" The slim-Cartman greeted.

"Now, that's just plain creepy." Kyle said, with a raised brow. Cartman greeting him with a cheesy grin? What a laugh!

How did get from total-dork-that-needs-a-restraining-order to suddenly hott-and-irresistable? This was a difficult equation to solve, indeed. Suddenly he felt his back being patted, "Hey Ky!" Kenny grinned, appearing behind him.

"Don't call me that!" Kyle yelled at Kenny. There was only one person that could call him that, but he isn't _with_ them anymore.

"Aww! Why?" Kenny whined, "I mean, you're popular now! WE CAN SCORE EASY!"

Kyle rolled his eyes, "And how does this benefit you, exactly?" He asked in an acidy voice.

"Well, I can be your side-kick best friend! You know like in the comic books?! And then girls would wanna hang with me because I hang with you!" Kenny exclaimed with excitement. _'God, why is acting everyone acting like a bunch of freaks? This doesn't even answer my question at all! I mean, they hardly knew I existed, now this! This didn't make any sense! I was sure I woke up this morning, this can't be a dream!'_

"Hey Kyle!" Stan called out to him.

That answered his question.

**------------------------------**

**N/A: **

Sorry, it took so long. D: I WAS BUSY, K?

ParkasThey don't have to be for winter, but they're called that if they're hoodies with zippers.

HoodiesThis, you just slip on without having to button or zip it.


End file.
